I will hold my pen to bed
When the day comes with no words for poetry
I will dream of our infant voices
as mother warns us to quit the dashes
Yet we will run into to the kitchen
Hiding and seeking
Happy and smiling
Category: read poetry
Rose, Poetry by Lucienne Ooijman
Like a prayer in the ocean
I rise above the wave, see?
My petals wet, my thorns
untouched.
To the shore, so gentle!
